


And All I See Is You

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Home and Away [22]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1, Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 06:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7924741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate: SG-1, Jack O'Neill, Midnight."</p><p>Jack gets a midnight visitor at the Pentagon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And All I See Is You

Midnights at the Pentagon weren’t really like midnights anywhere else, because the Pentagon was like Vegas, only with less gambling and strippers and more starched uniforms and arcane acronyms: it was the building that never slept. Staff were coordinating with sister agencies and troops all over the world, at all times of the day, so midnight wasn’t anything special, just a very dark time of the work day.  
  
Jack liked midnights because even though the Pentagon was still plenty busy, it was still quieter than daylight hours, and with the world outside darker than dark, he could pretend he was deep underground, under The Mountain, just like old times, working in isolation and relative silence.  
  
So he was surprised when the intercom at his desk buzzed and the night duty airman, who served as the gatekeeper for any senior personnel still hanging around this late at night, announced he had a visitor.  
  
“Major Evan Lorne to see you, sir.”  
  
Jack only had to search his memory briefly before he remembered who Major Lorne was. He’d been 2IC on SG-11 during that fracas with the Unas at Colonel Edwards’ mining operation, and despite being a stone-faced surveyor who’d moved artefacts before consulting Daniel and who'd puked up his guts at the sight of a corpse, he’d proved himself a competent officer and been assigned as 2IC on Atlantis after Lieutenant Ford went AWOL, high on Wraith enzyme and still a massive security risk.  
  
Jack pressed the button on his intercom to respond. “Show him in, Airman.”  
  
The door swung open, and there was Major Lorne, looking like a model Air Force officer in his service mess dress, not a strand of hair out of place. His shoes were probably so shiny Jack would be able to see his reflection in them.  
  
Lorne snapped to attention with a crisp salute.  
  
“At ease, Major,” Jack said, and Lorne ended his salute. “You’re calling awfully late, Major.”  
  
“Still pretty gate-lagged, sir.”  
  
“Annual leave from Atlantis?”  
  
“Yes, sir.” Lorne closed the door behind him but remained standing.  
  
“Don’t you have family who’d like to see you?”  
  
“I do, sir. Back in California.”  
  
“Then is this a social call? Because I’m pretty sure my calendar is empty right about now.” Jack darted a glance at his computer to be sure, but if there was one thing he knew in a given day, it was where he was supposed to be, and with whom, however he might pretend otherwise. “I’d remember if I had official business with you.”  
  
“We have a mutual acquaintance, sir.”  
  
Was it Jack’s imagination, or did Lorne look nervous?  
  
“We both work for Homeworld Security,” Jack said. “We have a lot of mutual acquaintances, Major.” Jack hated politicking in Washington as it was. Having a soldier beat around the bush was downright irritating.  
  
Lorne took a deep breath. “Your nephew, sir.”  
  
It took Jack a moment to figure out who Lorne was talking about, because Jack actually had no siblings, and therefore no nephews. “Ah. Young Jonathan.” Mini Me.  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
“What about him?”  
  
“Is he well, sir?”  
  
“I haven’t heard he’s dead, so I’m assuming so.”  
  
“You know what they say about assumptions, sir.”  
  
Jack did. He eyed Lorne. Kid was good-looking, all right. But damn young. Younger than Sam and Daniel for sure. “You haven’t heard from him?”  
  
“I was given strict orders about how I was to perform my duties, sir. I believe General Landry used the words ‘model officer’.”  
  
Jack was willing to bet that all of Major Lorne’s OERs described him as a model officer. “He hasn’t even written a note?”  
  
“No, sir.” Lorne lowered his chin slightly, dropping his gaze for a second.  
  
Jack wasn’t surprised Mini Me had managed to find a way to send messages of some kind to Major Lorne, even if there were galaxies and the industrial military complex of the United States standing between them. Of course, Lorne couldn’t admit that. Notes weren’t the same as real contact, though, seeing someone’s face or hearing their voice.

And then Jack remembered. He tugged open a drawer, fished out a little plastic sleeve with a CD in it. “Kid’s pretty thoughtful, though. He knows I like opera, so he sent me this little ditty. You like opera, right?” He pushed the CD across the table. “Bring a little bit of culture to Atlantis. Heaven knows the racket those Marines like to listen to.”  
  
“Are you sure, sir?”  
  
“Very much so, Major.” Jack smiled, not entirely nicely, and Lorne picked up the CD, cradling it in his hands carefully.  
  
“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it. Apologies for calling so late at night.” Lorne turned to go.  
  
“Anything you want me to pass on to my nephew, Major?”  
  
Lorne paused. “Sir?”  
  
“Anything at all. Greetings. A joke.” Jack raised his eyebrows.  
  
Lorne cleared his throat. “I didn’t think -”  
  
Didn’t think he’d get anything. Jack pushed a pen and a blank piece of paper across the desk. “Sit. Write something. Draw something. Whatever.”  
  
“Are you sure, sir?”  
  
Jack nodded.  
  
Lorne sat down, pulled the paper and pen closer, and set to work. He was drawing something, not writing something, and what he was drawing looked...intricate.  
  
So Jack went back to answering emails and reading reports.  
  
Half an hour later, Lorne was still drawing.   
  
Jack kept answering emails.  
  
Half an hour after that, Lorne capped the pen and pushed it and the paper back across the desk. Jack stared. In one hour, Lorne had drawn - well. Jack had seen things hanging in art galleries that weren’t a fraction as good. It was a deceptively simple sketch, of a man standing on a balcony painting. Only he wasn’t standing on any balcony; Atlantis was fuzzy and indistinct to the unknowing eye in the background. And the man was painting a picture, no a portrait of - Mini Me.  
  
“Is that all, Major?” Jack asked dryly.  
  
Lorne stood up. “That’s everything, sir. I appreciate your time.”  
  
Jack had listened to the recording Mini Me had sent him. After Jack joined up, he hadn’t had many opportunities to sing, and his pipes had gone rusty with disuse, but Mini Me had kept himself trained up, kept singing and exercising, and his voice was beautiful. The song Mini Me had sung wouldn’t compare to the drawing, though.  
  
It said a hundred things. Wish you were here. Wish I was there. Thinking of you. Miss you. I have memorized every curve and line of your face. I look at the wonder of Atlantis, and all I see is you.  
  
“You’re welcome, Major,” Jack said.  
  
Lorne saluted one more time before he departed.  
  
Jack stared down at the drawing and thought of Sara, Sam, and Daniel, and then he looked up at the door and wondered what Mini Me could ever have done, to get Major Lorne feeling like this about him. Jack understood how Lorne had caught Mini Me’s eye in the first place.  
  
Jack placed the drawing in his leather portfolio, careful not to crease it, and pondered all the ways he could make sure Mini Me would get it.  
  
And then he remembered. John Eric.  
  
Jack reached out, pressed the intercom button. “Airman, get me the address of a car repair place in Colorado Springs. It’s run by a guy named John Eric Winchester.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” the airman said.  
  
Jack closed his portfolio and set it aside and wondered what future midnights would bring.


End file.
